


Dead Moms Club Membership

by Jalules



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Friendship, Humanstuck, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jalules/pseuds/Jalules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Technically speaking, I probably shouldn’t be living with you. Crossing that doctor-patient boundary, you know?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Moms Club Membership

**Author's Note:**

  * For [messageredacted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/messageredacted/gifts).



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“Technically speaking, I probably shouldn’t be living with you. Crossing that doctor-patient boundary, you know?”

“Well yeah, but technically speakin’ I’m no doctor. Also I finished that study like two years ago, oh my god.”

A few feet away, Terezi cackles. She rarely laughs like a normal person, and you like that about her. She’s loud and she’s fun.

There was a time when you thought she might be an alien, but you’re over that. Now she’s just your roommate.

“Feels like just yesterday,” She sighs, kicks her feet over the arm of her chair and dangles her head back.

You curl up in your own chair, press pause on the controller cradled in your lap, “Don’t tell me you feel time differently than everybody else too. I’m gonna have to kick you out and start doin’ mad experiments on your whacked out brain.”

Terezi snorts, “Kick _me_ out? It’s my name on the lease, ace. Good luck with that one.”

 

She makes a good point. Terezi’s mom left her a decent chunk of change and one fine ass condo to her name before she died. She’s pretty much on easy street, financially speaking.

You pay into the utility bill with the little bit of cash you get out of working on campus in the lab. Everything else is covered by your Dead Moms Club membership card, which is a real thing that Terezi has insisted you keep in your wallet. The laminated index card entitles you to free food, unlimited hugs, and an hour of video games every other day.

It also holds you to certain duties, such as making comforting cups of flavored cocoa, offering up hugs of your own, and explaining, in vivid detail, exactly what’s happening on screen while you play games.

Those are the real actual rules of the Club. So stated by Terezi, drawn up and printed out and hung on the living room wall in a gold frame alongside the most incredibly badass posters of dragons and wizards ever collected from the back room of a dingy thrift shop.

She takes the whole Club thing pretty seriously, in a funny, sad, joking sort of way.

 

“Yeah I guess,” You say, “Wouldn’t look good for me to put a blind girl out on the street anyway.”

“Especially not if I wandered into traffic and died. You know I’d haunt you till the end of your days.”

“Eww. Your kinda haunting probably means stealin’ from my underpants drawer and leaving ectospit all over my stuff. Which is basically no different than what you do now.”

Terezi scrunches her nose, shrugs, “I was thinking more along the lines of rattling chains and moaning at you. Traditional stuff. But ectospit sounds good too,” She pauses to lick her lips, wriggles still lower in her seat, “And in my defense all your underwear is extremely comfortable.”

You drop your controller to the floor, effectively giving up on the game for now, “You realize that’s not a thing normal people do, right? Like, waltzin’ around in each other’s panties? Not average condo-mate behavior.”

“Psh,” She says dismissively, “Have you ever even _lived_ with other girls?”

“Have you ever even lived with other _humans_?”

“Have you ever even _lived_?”

You both stop then, look to each other dramatically. And though you know all Terezi can see of you is a pinky-blonde blur up top and something vaguely purple where your sweatshirt is, you can tell she’s really trying to stare through to your _soul_ , putting on the drama just like you are.

You stare intensely at each other for a few moments, playing something like bad acting chicken, till you both start giggling and effectively put an end to the game.

 

It took time to get to this point, the easy, snarky, fun sort of place you share. Time, but not effort. It wasn’t hard to find each other here. Once you saw through the sly, professional act she puts on for doctors and professors, and she sniffed past your fakey BFFs with the world routine, you came to an understanding.

You worked together, student and student-volunteer-subject, and her unique situation gave you enough material to write a goddamn book on synesthesia. Not to mention something to impress the crotchety old guys who figured you were too young and blonde and female to accomplish any sort of scientific investigation.

You shared a few wildberry smoothies late in the afternoon, and cared so little about the spit being accidentally swapped via straw that you became friends.

She asked you to join the club she just made up on the spot, a club for girls with dead mothers, and it was so sick, so perfect, you laughed until you cried.

 She asked if you wanted to move in with her, mostly to be closer to school and partly because she wanted to perch on the end of your bed and watch you sleep.

She could watch all she wanted, you said, just as long as she didn’t taste your face. That boundary didn’t last long.

 

“Roxy my dear, you smell nostalgic.”

“You can’t smell nostalgia you big fat liar.”

“You do though! Smells like…dust and wood. A little bit of burnt sugar.”

“You’re totally making that up. I know your weird ass stonk powers don’t work like that. I _studied_ you, duh.”

“Nonsense!” She declares, “You barely uncovered half of my superhuman abilities. You never even tested my dragon blood!”

You roll your eyes and huff, since you’ve heard about her so-called dragon blood like a million times now, but your attitude gives her an excuse. She rolls over and lunges past the edge of her chair, grabbing your hand and pulling it close to her face.

“Hmmmm yes. I can smell all the emotions leaking out of your pores, right here,” She nuzzles your palm, then drags her tongue across it so you shriek in protest. She laughs herself silly as you jerk your arm away and try to initiate a slap fight, knocking her sunglasses askew in the process.

“Do you taste my _burning hatred_ , you harpy?” You demand, half-giggling, tumbling right out of your chair and kicking your feet as you go, trying to bump her in the shins.

“All I taste is love!” She insists, which is what she always says when you’re play fighting, “So much love, wow, it’s really strong too! Roxy you should get that under control, people are going to think we’re dating with the way you reek of affection!”

“Liessssssssss,” You hiss, dragging the S out forever and a day. You pull her right out of her chair and onto the floor, half on top of your own midsection, and immediately begin tickling her. It is the only reliable course of action.

Now it’s her turn to shriek and kick, and she is way more dangerous than you. Tickling her is a sure way to end up bruised, but you go for it anyway. You keep poking and prodding till she elbows you in the throat, probably not intentionally, making you choke and cough and give up in a magnificent flailing motion.

She collapses on top of you and, after a moment, licks your cheek.

You’re pretty sure she’s not just being gross this time, so you give an over the top smooch to her cheek in return.

“You _do_ love me, don’t you?” She asks for show, displaying her ridiculous acting chops once again. She sounds like some messed up Scarlet O’Hara wannabe, fluttering and swooning as she daintily crushes your gallbladder under one misplaced hand.

“Totes, girl,” You grate out, then shift her weight on top of you so you won’t suffocate or anything. You drape your arms over her shoulders and she laughs as she returns the awkward embrace.

It’s comfortable here on the floor, with your still-paused game beeping at you from across the room. You’re thinking of making some cocoa, maybe making some for Terezi too and then stealing half of it. She might fight you for it, but that's what makes it fun. That's what you have industrial strength carpet cleaner for.

For now though, you’re not going anywhere. You’ve already used up your hour of video games for the day, so you figure you’ll cash in on some of those unlimited hugs instead.

You've always got your membership card at the ready.

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End file.
